In The Pouring Rain
by LittleSouthOfSanity
Summary: In a land with four kingdoms, war has been going on for many millenniums. Not a person knows how it started, other than over the gods that they themselves created. Especially for King Alfred F. Jones, taking on his duties along with the love of somebody very close to him. But he's not all he seems, nor who he seems to be.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes you just need to let sleeping dogs rest. Don't screw with things you don't know, because even if your hands are blood free, they'll be covered with red in a matter of minutes.

Alfred F. Jones didn't give a shit about sleeping dogs at the moment. You want somebody who wanted to know about that past? Talk to his Queen, who spent most of his days with his head stuck in history books; reciting dates and names.

'So if the books are lost, somebody will have the knowledge' Arthur had told him, one night, 'I'll be more valuable than I already am.'

Alfred couldn't tell if Arthur really cared about the history; or more about his popularity.

Popularity can be kind of like an addiction that spread to everybody around you. You're tongue tingles when you taste it, and it makes your heart thump just a bit faster. Your hands and feet go numb, as you look into the eyes of those who adore you.

Who wouldn't give up everything for that?

Those people will never get close enough to you, to see the whites of your eyes, but they still kneel at your feet when you walk by.

Neither Alfred nor Arthur knew how long this would last; but that's one thing that they had. Time, wasn't a problem for them.

"Which era is it, this time?" Alfred murmured, sitting down easily on the loveseat across from the warm fire that licked at the sides of the bricks in the fireplace.

"Before the kingdoms…" Arthur murmured, his choppy blonde head tilted over the pages of a book.

"I don't get why you spend all your time on that crap." Alfred mumbled, crossing his ankles, and leaning back happily, "You're the queen, you could have anybody read it for you."

Arthur looked up slowly, with narrowed eyes, "Then I'd forget how to read."

"That's what other people are for." Alfred said, and gives a goofy smile, "We're king and queen Arthur, and you can have anything you want."

Arthur closed his eyes, letting of the binding of the pages with his right hand. He rubbed at his forehead, taking a deep breath, "How many times have we had this discussion? Every time you give something to yourself, it takes away from our people."

"I know, I know." Alfred grumbled, and his hands went behind his head, "Thanks for saying that for the millionth time since we were two years old."

"Seven, actually."

Alfred turned his eyes on Arthur, looking at him with pure blue irises.

"Thanks." Alfred grumbled, sarcastically. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose, "You remember though, when we were kids?"

"Of course I do, I was there too." Arthur mumbled, letting his book rest against his stomach, "What about it?"

"I mean we always knew what we were going to do, didn't we? You and I, we knew we were going to have to be together."

"We were born for this." Arthur said, gazing evenly back with pure green eyes, "They checked very child for the mark of the Spades."

"I know." Alfred said, and Arthur went back to reading his book; while Alfred pondered the possibility of whom exactly he was.

You see, popularity can also be like a disease. It makes you think of what you would be without it, and without the responsibilities that come with everything. You wonder how you would be looked at, if you were the one begging on the streets in the early morning for a small slice of bread. How the others would gaze at you, walking over your skeleton like body with a distasteful twist to their lips

"I miss them…" Alfred whispered, tilting his head down; so his hair covered his face.

Arthur glanced up, pursing his lips slightly. He could read words for hours, but it took him several minutes to string up a good sentence for the other.

Something that wouldn't cut into the others heart when it was spoken.

"I do too." Arthur whispered, eventually. Three lonely words, which spoke a world in less than three seconds.

-Three Days Prior-

"Don't move."

The minute you told Alfred F. Jones not to move, he was going to feel the need to squirm in his seat.

"Dammit Alfred, I said don't move!"

"Just get it off Arthur." Alfred whined, his hands clenching on the velvet stretched across his seats armrest.

"Well if you move, it's going to also, so stop!" Arthur snapped, standing to the back of the other. He had leather riding gloves on, a broom, and a tissue.

"Get it off!" Alfred whispered, shifting around again, the seat creaking as he moved his rear around on it, anxiously.

"I am, I am! Give me a moment, this isn't fun for me either!" Arthur snapped, reaching forward very slowly, his gloved hand open with the tissue resting easily on it.

The grumbly English man stared at the others shoulder, and eight little pairs of eyes gazed back at him.

Well, figuratively. He doubted the spider was actually looking at him all at once. After all, spiders are mostly blind by nature.

"Did you know spiders are actually pretty blind?" Arthur said, still reaching forward very slowly.

"Yes, and so am I, what does that have to do with anything?!" Alfred gasped, wiggling again in his seat.

"It means it's probably just as scared as you are." Arthur said, and snapped his hand forward, clenching the tissue paper around the spider with a 'crunching' sound.

"I-I'm not scared of anything, you're the one scared of it." Alfred gasped, and flew out of the seat the moment he felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder. He wrinkled his nose up at the tissue, glancing up at his companions face.

"Sure, sure." Arthur said, smirking and wrapping the tissue around the dead spider, making sure not to loose any of it, "Says the one who let out the most bloody loud scream I've ever heard when one fell on you."

"That was just initial shock." Alfred said, reaching behind him to rub at his shoulder; secretly brushing away any figments of the spider away, "That and I had to warn my damsel in distress!"

Arthur's narrowed eyes landed on him. "Pray tell, who would that be?"

"Arthur Kirkland of course." Alfred said, and took off running away from the other.

"I told you not to call me that!" Arthur screamed, taking off after the other, with the wadded up tissue in one hand, "I swear to Spades, I'll throw this dead creature on you!"

"That's not even right!" Alfred screamed back, "You're evil, you know that?"

"Good, maybe it'll teach you something!" Arthur snapped, and slammed into the back of the other, who had stopped suddenly.

"Al?" Arthur asked, pulling away from the others black jacket, and following the others gaze. His head bobbed, as he swallowed hard.

"Hello, your highnesses." The guard Alfred had stopped in front of, bowed so low Arthur could have sworn his nose touched the ground, "Mr. Stanley wishes to speak to the both of you."

"What?" Alfred asked, stepping back slightly, and in front of Arthur; who had begun to shake.

"Mr. Stanley of Spades higher up class ranking 65, wishes to speak to the new—"

"That's enough, Dudley." A gruff voice echoed down the hall and Arthur's hand rested against Alfred's back, his fingertips brushing against the familiar fabric, that smelled just like the boisterous blonde.

"Mr. Stanley." Dudley murmured, and bowed again, this time a grim smile on his face, "I will leave you to explain."

With those words, the grim faced guard was gone, stomping back down the hallway that he had come from. Even though the floor was carpeted, his footsteps still echoed in the dark and suddenly very empty space.

All except for the two eighteen year olds, and an older man standing there; whose eyes were sadder than Alfred or Arthur had ever seen.

"Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland." Stanley said, his voice softening, "We've some matters to discuss."

Alfred frowned at the other; looking down at the hand that Stanley had suddenly offered him. He took it very slowly, feeling suddenly very young and small. Not at all like the adult he had turned into a month and a half ago on his birthday.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, stepping out from behind Alfred, and straightening his hair with his free hand, "Does the King and Queen want us?"

"Arthur," Stanley started, taking a deep breath before continuing, "There has been an accident… You and Alfred are the King and Queen now."

Arthur stared at the other, feeling Alfred start to tremble himself under the hand that was resting against his back. The new Queen's fingers unclenched around a tissue, and it fell to the golden carpet soundlessly.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur slid his fingers across his coat, his fingertips rubbing against each of the buttons that held the fabric to each other. He took a deep breath, feeling his vest extend the slightest amount as he did. He couldn't take waiting any second longer. If the damn opening ceremony lasted any longer, he was going to end up in a corner with his hands in his head; probably tearing out his own hair from anxiety.

"Arthur? The Queen usually wears this… ruffle thing…" Alfred spoke quietly from behind him, and the choppy blonde haired boy twirled around quickly. His coat let out a soft swish as he did so, rubbing against the perfect white marble floor of his fathers sitting room

No, Arthur reminded himself silently, my sitting room now.

"I really hate that thing." Arthur grumbled, reaching over to nab the ruffled piece of fabric from the other, running pale fingers over the cloth. It was soft and silky to his touch. Something that even half the people in town would probably never feel the likes of; for it was too expensive for them. Yet, here he was, complaining over his own wealth.

"You do kind of look like you grew a big ass beard when you have it on." Alfred teased, straightening out his own coat.

Both of them were dressed in their outfits. Arthur liked to call them 'Costumes' because there was no way in hell he would have worn this on any other day. It was stuffy, and it was uncomfortable. Arthur thought his own was wary worse and far more humiliating than Alfred's.

His brown boots rose up to his knees, tightening there to hold in the rest of the fabric of his brown pants. It jumbled up, creating an almost balloon like effect where they met. Underneath his vest was a white button up shirt, made of the purest and finest cotton that his kingdom could bring in. Over it, what he hated the most was a dark blue vest. If you looked at it from the side, it almost looked purple; along with his large coat he was forced to wear. The last of the 'costume' was the ruffled piece of neckwear that was in high style about… fifty years ago. Everything he would be forced to wear for now on would have blue on it.

Blue was the color of the Spades. Blue was now his color, and blue was the color he would be buried in.

"Oh shut-up." Arthur said, fixing the neckpiece carefully so he didn't tear it with his nails, "At least you don't have to wear the boots clear up until they are touching the insides of your thigh."

"Certain other things would like to touch the inside of your thigh." Alfred said, and ducked down, as Arthur's fist flew out at him.

"Hey now! Don't harm the king." Alfred sang, dancing backwards.

Arthur turned to gaze evenly at the other, his green eyes widening slightly at how Alfred looked. He looked like he could fit the roll perfectly, and he held himself in such a way that one could tell he knew it. His eyes landed on the others perfectly tan shoes, and making a mental note on how Alfred didn't have to wear the damn high-knee boots. He watched as the tan pants shifted when Alfred did, right until where they reached his waist and settled onto his hips. The vest fit perfectly on the other blonde, and instead of a ruffled neckpiece, he had on a tie that was tightened up until it reached Alfred's throat. He was dressed down in blue also, Alfred's maybe being a purer blue; impossible to mix up with purple. Right down to the coat that reached his ankles; he looked every bit the king he was supposed to be in a matter of minutes.

"Wouldn't want to put a mark for the audience, would we?" Arthur asked, swallowing thickly as he turned back towards the mirror.

"Nope, I wouldn't even like a battle wound." Alfred whispered, coming up behind Arthur to take his hand. "Look."

"I already looked." Arthur grumbled, trying to pull his hand away from the warm one holding it.

"No, look now." Alfred reached out, the Alfred in the mirror mimicking the actions. Two pairs of identical fingers met; one made out of glass and the other out of skin, "Look at us… look at how much we've changed."

"It's only been a week, Al." Arthur whispered, though as he gazed into the mirror also.

How much could two eighteen year olds really change in a week? Could they go from chasing each other through their castle, to becoming king and queen in that much time?

"I know, but a week is all that is needed. A week is all that the Hearts kingdom needed to take down our army in the south." Alfred said, his arm still outstretched towards the mirror. The glass was cold against his finger, almost making a shiver run up his spin.

"Yes, and it killed my parents." Arthur snapped; breaking his hand free from the others so suddenly it almost hurt.

Alfred turned, and for a moment he didn't speak a word. Finally, he just whispered, "I know, and I'm sorry."

"You have to admit though, that can't just happen! That doesn't even make any sense! We aren't in a total war with them yet, why would they kill our king and queen when they have nothing really against us!"

Alfred sighed, shaking his head, "They've been at our borders for years. Hearts is constantly trying to spread out, to take more land. Your parents were just in the wrong place, at the perfect time for the Hearts Kingdom."

Arthur shivered, clenching his eyes closed and pressing his hands over his face. He didn't want to imagine that. Stanley hadn't told them how his parents had died… but that didn't mean his mind didn't do that justice. He could just imagine every horrible way, and every last moment that they had experienced. Right down to the last breath, and their hands going limp.

Perhaps they were holding hands when they died, Arthur mused.

"Am I going to be holding hands with my love when that happens?" He wondered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Alfred asked, finally letting his hand drop away from the mirror. He turned around, his own coat swishing across the floor.

"Nothing." Arthur sighed, looking down at his jacket and picking at the spade sewn onto it, "How long do we have left?"

"We had ten minutes when I came in here… so probably very little." Alfred murmured, holding his arm out for the other to take, "On our ways, your highness?"

Arthur's lips slowly spread into an anxious smile, looking up into familiar blue eyes. He reached out, fitting a small blue hat onto his head, feeling it cock to the side, before he took the others arm with his left hand.

"On our way." Arthur said, and turned towards the doors that led to the grand balcony and to thousands of people lined up to only see them say a few things.

A glance at their new king and queen.

"I swear if you don't stop swinging on me, I'm going to murder you." A velvet soft voice whispered, making anybody nearby shudder and take a step away, though they didn't know why.

"You can try!" A smaller voice screamed out, a lot louder than the one previous. Two red eyes suddenly flashed in the darkness of a nearby alleyway. Anybody still standing nearby took off running at the mere sight of them.

"Don't make me try, my powers are way more awesome than your measly ones! I could take you." The velvet voice was rising now, becoming almost too excited to be real over such a small trifle.

"Come at me." The smaller voice screamed, and there was a sharp grunt, before a blond haired boy, suddenly flew out of a dark alleyway and into the streets. He shifted his head up, groaning in pain, and tilting his jaw to the side. There was a sharp crack, of the jaw going back in place. He stood up very slowly, stumbling to the side, only to catch himself with his shoulder. His arm was out of place, sitting up at an odd angle, "Asshole."

A soft cackle slid out of the dark alley, and more footsteps, "You told me to! Don't tell me to do things that you don't want me to do."

The boy looked up, his eyes flashing a horrible red, almost like blood that slides down walls, from others. His fingertips curled up, digging into the palm of his hand.

"Give me my hat back." The boy whispered, his hair falling against his ears.

"Nah, I like it. Maybe I wanted one, hm?" The softer voice whispered, and a man stepped out from the alleyway, pure blood red eyes mimicking the others perfectly.

White hair shifted in the wind, pale cheeks and even paler eyes appeared. The man's body was slim, probably no older than a teenager, though he held himself in such a way like he didn't care about the world around him. He was dressed in complete black pants, and knee high boots without an inch of heels; almost like combat boots. His red shirt fit his slim figure perfectly, along with the long sleeved coat that reached his hips. It was pure black, the sides of it red, along with a red figure imprinted onto it.

The two had something very identical though, and something very different than anybody else. Behind the two individuals flickered a black tail, the point at the red like a devils, the same impossible red as their eyes. The smallest had two little nubs sticking out of his hair, black horns on each side, and the other had longer ones. They angled upwards slightly, the tip of each sharper than a needle.

The smallest one snarled, reaching towards a black hat gripped tightly in the elders hands.

"It probably wouldn't even fit you, and I need it to cover my horns!" The little boy smiled, "Plus, I look good in it."

"I look good in anything, so it'd look even better on me, Peter." The silver haired teen pulled the hat up, grabbing a piece of each end and trying to smoosh it over his head.

"You're going to rip it, stupid!" Peter screamed, and launched himself forward, his knees slamming into the elders' stomach. He grabbed a pair of shoulders, pushing them back toward the ground as hard as he could, "I hate you, Gilbert!"

"That's just because I'm too awesome for you!" Gilbert called back, trying to hold onto the hat and withstand the others hits against him. He grunted softly, rolling over so that he had Peter pinned beneath him.

"Shut-it, you blimey idiot! I'm better than you! I'm the best the world has ever had!" Peter screamed, kicking and hitting Gilbert in the stomach.

Gilbert just let out a soft snicker, and a huff of air as it was forced out of his lungs. He finally pulled the hat away, dangling it in front of Peters face with a snicker.

"You want your lame hat?" Gilbert sung happily, "You have to pay me for it."

"I don't have any money!" Peter whined, wiggling his body around to try to get out of the others grip, "You know we aren't allowed any money!"

"Hey! You two idiots who are fighting, pay respect to our new King and Queen!" A brave voice snapped, and both Gilbert and Peter slowly looked over at an old man, holding himself up with a cane. They grimaced at each other, Gilbert slowly letting of the hat so that Peter could push it back carefully on his face.

"Easy old man, we could both take you and nobody would know what had happened." Gilbert said, standing up and brushing down his jacket. His tail flicked lazily behind him.

The old man eyed the tail and took a step back, watching as Peter pulled up a red hanker chef so it hung more evenly around his neck.

"That's right, old man. We're two of the greatest people for you to ever meet, we don't need the king and queen!" Peter screamed, thrusting his hands up in the air, "We'll be King and Queen!"

Gilbert reached up, hitting Peter on the back of the head lightly with his knuckles, "I'm the King."

"What? No! I'm the King, I want the special powers!" Peter whined, walking towards the crowded street a bit dejectedly.

"That's why I get it, I'm good enough to use it." Gilbert chuckled, and brushed past the old man.

"You two young boys better calm down. The only two Kings and Queens you'll ever see are coming out in about a minute or two." The old man grumbled, trying to ignore the fact they had tails. He'd seen a lot in his time, and it almost took a heart attack to surprise him anymore.

Gilbert and Peter both glanced over at the old man, following his gaze up to a brightened balcony they hadn't even realized they were under. The curtains flipped open, revealing a rather plump man with brushed back hair.

"On this day, as is no other." The man started, "I bring you the horrible reality that our beloved King and Queen are not coming back."

The hushed whispers that had been moving through out the crowd stopped immediately at those words, and Gilbert looked around with a raised eyebrow. He couldn't believe any of this was really that important.

He liked to mess with important things.

"Today we also bring you exciting and great news." The man held his hands against his heart, over a patched on spade. It was in respect of the ones they had lost, and in symbolism of a new beginning, "Our two great Princes have stepped up, giving us our chosen new King and Queen."

The hushed whispers were back, even a few boos and cheers of joy mixing in with each other. Nobody expected this, it seemed. After all, how could somebody who was thirty, want to be under the rule of two eighteen year olds?

"I don't understand, what's going on, Gilbert?" Peter asked, reaching up and grabbing hold of the white haired ones hand tightly.

"Shut-up, I'm trying to listen." Gilbert mumbled, but held onto the younger boys hand back.

"King Alfred, and his Queen Arthur." The man said, bowing once more until Gilbert swore the fat man's nose touched the ground. He stepped back, pushing open the curtains to reveal two young men. One had sharp green eyes, and the other soft and joyous blue ones; adorned with glasses.

Gilbert's grin twisted up onto his face slowly, taking a step towards the balcony as the royal two stepped down.

"Gilbert?" Peter asked, slowly letting go of his friends' hand.

"This is going to be fun."


End file.
